


Sans gets pussy but not the fun kind

by SEABlRD



Series: Brief Encounters of the... Awkward kind...? [6]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Awkward Meeting (tm), Other, POV Second Person, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, awkward first meetings, first in front of your neighor and then again in front of you, fluff? probably, sans makes a fool of himself twice in a row
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Local skeleton loses twenty something pairs of boxers to a complete stranger: what happens next will warm your heart<br/>----<br/>Sans POV for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6465400">Something about Cats and Boxers</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sans gets pussy but not the fun kind

**Author's Note:**

> yo! Sorry for having taken so long with an update of any kind, but this bad boy just didnt want to be written ???? I finally got this all out. I hope you enjoy!

    A month and a half. Ever since the beginning of summer, actually. That’s how long he’s been losing his boxers. Now, it sounds awkward when he says it like that, but that’s honestly what’s been happening. He doesn’t know where they go or who has them, but the point is that he no longer has them in his possession.

    “AGAIN, SANS??!” Papyrus demands, hands on his hips. The tall skeleton looks down at him with a disappointed look on his face. Sans just shrugs.

    “Yeah, bro, I just don’t know where they’re going. I even checked under there.” Sans states, pointing vaguely behind Papyrus. Papyrus, the sweet soul, turns around and looks for the location Sans was pointing at.

    “UNDER WHERE?” Papyrus bends over and checks the bottom of the furniture and Sans has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

    “Exactly.”

    It takes exactly one and three fourths of a second for Papyrus to get the joke. He stands up straight, spine rigid, and turns to Sans slowly. The look of unadulterated rage on his face is what finally gets Sans, who doubles over wheezing.

    “THAT’S NOT FUNNY, BROTHER! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU’VE SUBJECTED ME TO THIS KIND OF TREACHERY!” Papyrus howls, throwing his arms in the air and almost knocking a ceiling light out of it’s socket. “MAKING A FOOL OF ME BY PARTAKING IN YOUR OBNOXIOUS PUNNING? UNACCEPTABLE! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS. I’M LEAVING IMMEDIATELY. IF YOU NEED ME YOU CAN FIND ME AT THE PARK WITH BLUE, DISCUSSING MY HOURS FOR TOMORROW, BROTHER. PLEASE DO NOT TERRORIZE THE NEIGHBORS WITH YOUR AWFUL HUMOR.”

    “Sure thing, bro.” Sans waves lazily from his spot on the couch, catching his breath. It’s not often that he manages to catch Papyrus unaware like that, and it’s always a joyous occasion when he does. The most common one he catches his brother with is the ‘updog’ joke, though he’s almost half sure Papyrus only goes with it to humor him.

    Heh. _Humor_ him.

    Well, there isn’t much to do without Papyrus around, and it’s Sans’ day off, so being nothing but lazy sounds like a great plan for the rest of the day. Sans picks up the new pair of black boxers that Papyrus generously decorated for him with little white bone prints. It’s something of a tradition, for Papyrus to hand-decorate any clothing he or Sans gets. He’s gotten significantly better at it since they’ve left the Underground, graduating from markers to fabric paint. Sans considers asking Toriel to give Papyrus some sewing and embroidering lessons for his birthday.

    He resigns himself to having to put away his new pair of boxers in his room (which is much neater than it’s predecessor, imagine that!) and he heaves himself off the couch and makes his way down the hall.

    Really, he and Papyrus were lucky to grab such a great apartment right off the bat. The landlord was super supportive of the monsters’ integration to society, and personally offered a discount for one of the fourth floor apartments to King Asgore, which he said is one of the largest apartments in the whole building.

Asgore, of course, refused on account of his horns being much too tall for human-sized lodging. Besides, he had enough gold to afford this colossal house just on the outskirts of town. The place is practically a mansion! Meanwhile, Toriel and Frisk have a nice little house in a rural area, where Toriel is offering education and various lessons for the children in her neighborhood. It’s not quite the teaching position she hoped for just yet but, last Sans heard, a local school had been looking into offering her a position as a substitute. It’s a start, at least.

Alphys and Undyne managed to score a pretty decent apartment near the local university, fully paid for by the science department once Alphys agreed to come on board and help them with understanding the science behind SOULS and magic, and magic powered devices.

Which left Sans and Papyrus. How could they say no? A huge apartment, all to themselves, at a ridiculous discount? Count them in.

Sans counts the seconds it takes for him to cross the apartment, grin widening. There’s just something really nice about adding about four seconds to the travel time it takes to get from the living room to your own room. The longer it takes, the better you’ve made it.

He pushes the door to his room open, enjoying the breeze that comes through the open window, and nearly misses tripping over something in front of his legs. What? He looks down, and comes face to snout with some sort of cat.

The cat stares up at him with shocking yellow eyes, it’s fur a pale tan and spotted with black. Sans is so struck by the unexpected appearance of the animal that he almost misses what the thing has in it’s mouth.

Those are his boxers, alright.

Sans reaches down to grab the boxers, only to have the cat dance out of his reach. He stares blankly at the space where the cat was, not really having expected it to put up a fight. Ah well, it can’t keep evading all day. Sans lunges again.

The cat leaps away and shoots Sans a look, either of amusement or derision is hard to say. Sans feels irritation building up in his skull. So much for a lazy day off, huh. He reaches out with his magic, grabbing at the boxers. The cat is, once again, faster than himself. Alright, the little bugger wants to play it that way? Sans can play too. He shoots his magic toward the cat, aiming at the creature’s soul this time. It’s hard-pressed to dodge that one, but he manages to graze it’s leg and make it stumble. He goes for the boxers again.

The cat jumps off the ground, using Sans’ back like a springboard, and lands somewhere behind him. Sans lands face-down on the carpet, feeling the lint he never vacuumed cling to his teeth. Unacceptable.

He goes for the cat’s soul again, without warning. He manages to trap the cat in place, using blue bones to cage it in. The beast quickly learns that moving means pain. Despite that, it has yet to let go of Sans’ boxers.

Sans watches the thing out of the corner of his eye as he gets up, wipes the carpet lint off his face, and puts his hands on his hipbones. The cat gives him an ugly glare, growing lightly in it’s chest.

“You’re a crafty little shit, aren’t ya?” Sans huffs, feeling like he’s exerted himself past his weekly quota. So what? It’s hard work being this lazy, you know.

The cat doesn’t respond.

“Welp, that’s fine with me. As long as you don’t bother me again.” Sans shrugs, bending down to finally retrieve his boxers. Papyrus will be glad to know that Sans had, ahem, ‘apprehended’ the culprit behind his disappearing undergarments.

The cat eyes him with malice, waiting until Sans’ hand is in range to lash out with both front paws, dragging its claws down the sleeve of his hoodie. Sans jerks back, alarmed. One good scratch like that and…

His attention snaps, and the cat is released. It tears past him and out the window. Sans isn’t fast enough to catch it a second time, and he can only clutch his chest to calm his pounding soul in his ribcage as he hears it clatter down the fire escape. At least he still has the boxers Papyrus gave him earlier, but that doesn’t give him much peace of mind.

    Papyrus was both pleased and disappointed in him, upon his return that afternoon. Pleased that Sans now knows who the thief is, and disappointed that he was outsmarted by a cat.

    “It was really quick, bro.” Sans defends, mostly on principle than anything else. “You know me, I don’t move that fast.”

    “WELL, THAT’S TRUE. IM PROUD THAT YOU CAUGHT IT AT LEAST ONCE, THEN!” Papyrus’ frown lifts. “THAT MEANS YOU CAN CATCH IT AGAIN, IF YOU NEED TO!”

    Sans doubts he’ll get another opportunity to, but he nods along with his brother anyway. Satisfied, Papyrus continues to ramble on about his day. Something about starting around noon tomorrow, and having gotten coupons for free Nicecream at the stand he will be working at. The coupons, which he put up on the board for any of the building’s other tenants to see and ‘be invited to a potential friendship treat’.

    Now, what Papyrus doesn’t know is that nobody is willingly exiting the comfort of their air-conditioned apartments in this hellish weather. Just because, as skeletons, they cannot feel the heat, does not mean that others don’t feel it either. Even Alphys, who lived in a place literally called HOTland, complained about the summer heat.

    Then again, there’s something different about having heat magically radiating from your surroundings and having it beat down on you from a glowing ball of fire from above. Digressing. The point is, Papyrus will have nobody picking up his coupons because nobody wants to willingly bake themselves alive on the hot asphalt outside unless they’re desperate for groceries, have a job, kids, or a pet to take care of, or just really determined.

    Sans lets Papyrus dream on, though. The possibility of having more friends cheers the guy up, might as well let him have it.

    If there’s one thing he and Papyrus can agree on, though, is that it is absolutely imperative to find the cat thief and retrieve all the pairs of Sans’ lost boxers. It’s ridiculous to have lost fifty dollars worth of custom-decorated underwear to a cat.

    It’s way too early in the morning to be awake but something is shaking him and it won’t stop despite him swatting at it with his hand. Sans blinks awake, much to his dismay, and stares Papyrus in the sockets. His brother is holding something in his other hand, buzzing excitedly.

    “BROTHER, I HAVE EXCELLENT NEWS!” he shouts, pushing the paper into Sans’ limp hands. “LOOK! THE PERSON WHO OWNS THE CAT HAS PUT UP A NOTICE ON THE BOARD DOWNSTAIRS! I NOTICED IT WHEN I WENT OUT FOR MY MORNING RUN. THE COUPONS I PUT UP WERE GONE ALSO. DO YOU THINK THAT THE PERSON WHO PUT UP THE PAPER ALSO TOOK THE COUPONS?”

    This is way too much information for Sans to process at the same time, so he tunes his brother out in favor of reading the paper himself. He throws in a few nods and affirmative noises, enough to keep Paps sated, but doesn’t focus much on what he’s saying.

    “ _To whom it may concern.”_ Okay, that sounds good so far. Polite, at least. Hopefully not a monster hater. He keeps reading. “ _I have come into possession of your boxers thanks to my kleptomaniac cat and I would like to return them to you.”_

    Well colour him surprised. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his twenty-odd pairs of boxers again for the rest of his life, thanks to that cat, but here is someone who wants to return not one, but all of his stolen underwear? That’s nice and all, but why hadn’t they contacted him sooner? Or at least put up a flyer sooner.

    “ _Please come pick them up at apartment 3F.”_ Sounds good. He’ll head down there right now, before he forgets (or becomes too lazy to go at all). Papyrus continues to babble on about his potential friend and how they must truly appreciate the finer culinary delights such as spaghetti and Nicecream.

    Sans heaves himself out of bed while Papyrus readies himself for the rest of his morning exercise, following the strict routine that Undyne prepared specially for him. Sans never quite understood where Papyrus got his exuberance from, given that laziness that struck both him and… and….? who again? Right. They came from somewhere, so they must have parents. Or at least one parent. Sans and his… parent…?

    All is well and good, especially when one is definitely not questioning his own origins first thing in the morning.

    Sans stretches, wiping any existential crisis from his mind and feeling the discs of space between his vertebrae shift with a gentle, satisfying noise. 3F, is that right? Should be the apartment right below his and Papyrus’. He passes his brother on his way out the door, waving lazily before he closes the door behind him.

    The elevator takes an excruciating amount of time to make it to the fourth floor, and Sans almost falls asleep standing by the doors. Finally, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Sans shuffles inside and hits the button for the third floor. The elevator begins its slow journey down, the machinery giving an ominous hum and rattling in an unhealthy way. He’ll have to mention possible repairs for it to the landlord, if the noises get any worse.

    Sans almost missed his stop, snapping out of his semi-consciousness just as the doors are closing again. He steps out, relieved to be out of that descending death trap. Okay, which apartment is it? 3G?That should be the second door on the right.

    He approaches the door quietly, still rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes. If he were human, there would be an obscene amount of eye-crust around his sockets. Wishing he were still in bed, Sans knocks as quietly as he can to avoid waking up the neighbors.

    A crash comes from behind the door, followed by some strange creaking and the pounding of footsteps, until the door swings open. A man with greying hair and bright green and blue paint all over his upper, unclothed body greets him with a wide smile. Sans internally winces at the sight, suddenly very apprehensive of. well, everything.

    “H- hey, bud.” he starts, giving a hesitant wave. “I’m here about my… uh, I mean, your cat…?”

    “I don't have a cat here.” the man shrugs, dripping some paint onto the floor. “Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I haven’t been through the spare room in a while, who knows what might be in there.”

    Sans’ eye-lights dart down to the paper in his hand, realizing too late that he knocked on the wrong door. “Oh that’s, uh, that’s fine. Sorry for bothering you, sir.”

    The man waves him off. “Don’t worry about it! I was just finishing a painting of mine. Come to think of it, you have a fascinating bone structure! I would love to get some studies of you, if you’d be alright doing some nude modelling!”

    Yeah, that's his cue to leave.

    “Listen I’d love to help out, but I’m sure it’d be _paint_ -fully tedious to draw all my bones.” He reasons, backing away slowly. Who even paints this early in the morning? “I’ve _easel_ -y got a couple hundred of ‘em, and I don’t think you’d wanna waste your time on some _sketchy_ guy like me.”

    He doesn't stick around long enough to hear the rest of the man’s response, beyond a faint ‘take care, then!’ from beyond the closing door. Sans rests his head against the wall by the elevators, sighing. What a dumb mistake to make. Ah well, he can get it right this time.

    Sans tentatively approaches the apartment marked 3F, waiting for whoever is behind the door. After a solid two minutes of no response, he tries knocking again. Honestly, he doesn't blame the person in the apartment for wanting to sleep in some more; it _is_ unreasonably early on a summer morning to be awake.

    Sans is halfway through a third round of knocking when the door swings open to reveal a very tired looking human. They’re wiping their eyes, probably still weary with sleep. Off-guard, Sans watched silently as they take in the sight of him, seeming not to comprehend what they're looking at.

    “Is, uh. Is this 3F?” Sans asks, just to make sure. He wouldn't be surprised if he goofed up again. Which would be a pity, because this human seems pretty nice. They also _look_ nice, which is either really good or really bad for Sans; Good, since he gets to meet this cutie to begin with, or bad because this cutie literally saw over twenty pairs of his bone-printed underwear.

    He lets out a sigh of relief when they human confirms that he did, indeed, have the right apartment this time. At least he didn’t mess that up. Now, to worry about them having seen his boxers... They lead him inside, snorting at his _brief_ (ha!) story about the crazy old guy in the apartment across from theirs.

    He doesn’t know what it is, but something about this human makes him feel comfortable. More than his usual lazy, laid-back comfort he puts on for show around everybody else. Maybe he’s just getting good vibes from them.

    He grabs the basket of clean boxers (really, they didn't have to wash them. He never washed them, anyway.) and is about to make a hasty getaway when he feels a tug on the sleeve of his hoodie.

    “Hang on. I have to know how you got so many of the exact same pair of these. It’s honestly impressive. Also, how can you stand to wear a hoodie in the middle of summer? I have questions, my dude.”

    Sans can’t hold back his snort of amusement, thinking about exactly why he needs to wear boxers. “That’s a bit of a long story, but the short version of it is that they didn’t start out with this print on it. My brother made the stencil and prints it into every new pair of boxers I get.”

    Strangely enough, the next few seconds are filled with puns and introductions, and a cat. A cat, which this funny human named ‘Jug’. Which is funny, because of what ‘Jug’ is short for.

    “Yes, like the bone. I get it, it’s a hilarious coincidence.” The human deadpans. Sans can’t stop laughing. Quadratojugal. Out of all the weird coincidences, this one takes the cake. Or the boxers, in this case. “Ha ha, laugh it up. It was clever at the time, okay?”

    He can’t help but be a bit curious about that, but he knows better than to pry into some stranger’s past. Instead, he offers a superfluous “You gotta tell me about that sometime” as he usually would, even though he knows the chances of seeing them again so soon are pretty slim.

    “How about later, then? Around noon-ish, if you’re not busy?” The sound of something hitting the floor, probably the cat, passes unnoticed as Sans tries to comprehend what they’re offering. “I’m probably going out for some Nicecream, it would be _chill_ if you could join me.”

    He blushes and struggles with his words for a moment. The nice, nice-looking human wants to hang out with him? He’s either really lucky, or still asleep and this is all a dream.

“S- sure, I’d love to get some Nicecream.” He finally manages to say, hoping he doesn’t sound quite as bamboozled as he feels. “You’re gonna have to pay, though, cause I don’t have a tab with them yet”

Though the thought of hanging out with _____ sounds like an awesome idea, having to explain why he wears boxers sounds like nothing but embarrassment for Sans. He stutters out a few more things, including a farewell, as he finally escapes and heads down the hall with his boxers.

“I promise I won’t look this gross and exhausted later!” _____ calls to him as he hits the button for the elevator. He laughs, knowing that feeling but also because?? They think they look gross and exhausted, but to him they looked great. They clearly have not witnessed his version of ‘gross and exhausted’ yet.

Papyrus asks what put him in such a good mood when he comes back to their apartment, but what can he say? He shrugs, giving his brother a goofy smile, and heads to his room to put away his underwear.


End file.
